


Fake Smiles and Rendezvous

by Megara Bee (Megara_Bee)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-08 01:04:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5477360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megara_Bee/pseuds/Megara%20Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Rumbelle Secret Santa as a gift for Emilie Brown Fanfic. Prompt: Mafia, Surprise Pregnancy, Fluff, Smut.</p><p>Belle French is in love with Storybrooke's most infamous criminal, Mr. R. Gold. However, she still lives under the thumb of her domineering father Moe, who's hell-bent on returning Storybrooke to past leadership - the French family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Killian Jones is perhaps my least favorite character in the world, but he makes an excellent villain. I am not liable for any vomiting his presence in this story causes.

“Astrid, we’re out of paper towels. I’m going to run down to the basement to get some.”

“Are you sure Belle? I’m pretty sure I saw some in the-”

“Nope! All out! I’ll be back in a tick!”

Belle smiled innocently at the confused librarian’s assistant as the heavy elevator doors shut, her finger insistent on the “down” button. Once alone she sighed with relief, tapping her foot impatiently.

The library basement was a dark, damp maze, lit sporadically by buzzing yellow bulbs and filled with a musty odor. No one was in sight but according to her watch it was precisely 10 o’clock, and he was never late. She wandered between stacks slowly.

Her heels clicked on the stones and her heartbeat sang in her ears. _This must be how rabbits feel_ , she thought.

Then suddenly she was grasped from behind, a pair of strong arms circling her waist and a pair of large hands pressing boldly against her abdomen. She tensed, prepared to scream, and then relaxed against his chest. The scent of sandalwood and spice filled her nostrils, and his questing hands wasted no time in tugging the hem of her blouse free from her skirt.

“You bastard,” she whispered, one hand reaching back to tangle in his shaggy hair.

“Would you have me else?”

“Never.” She spun around, her hands setting upon his tie. “We don’t have long. No one saw you?”

“No one.”

Belle grinned. “Thank God for Prohibition-era secret tunnels.”

“No, thank God for flashlights,” he said, spinning them around and pinning Belle against the end of a shelving unit. She gasped as he dropped his head, pulling her shirt open with a flick of the wrists. He pressed a line of open mouthed kisses across the tops of her breasts.

“As hot as I find your burning passion, I think I need a bit more than that.”

He moaned, tugging the soft cup down to bare a nipple. He sucked it, applying light pressure with his teeth. His other hand worked her shirt off her shoulder.

“There’s a couch around the corner!”

“I’d rather fuck you here,” he growled, tugging her bra down further and switching nipples. He let go of her shirt and worked his hand down her back, grabbing a handful of her ass and squeezing with all he was worth. She rewarded him with a moan and a gasp as his fingers tweaked her thong.

“Miss French, how naughty!”

She used her hand in his hair to tug his face level with hers. “Don’t you call me that. You know I hate it.”

“Do I?” His face was one of wicked enjoyment, his smile as ferocious as it was rapturous.

“Say my name or I’ll go back to work.”

“You won’t,” he said, pressing close and nipping her bottom lip, “but I’ll say it anyway, because I love to see you squirm.”

She shifted, the heaviness of his brogue making a slick heat curl in her belly.

“ _Belle_.”

She gave the promised squirm, her body rolling against his. She kissed him, one hand on his neck keeping him close. The other slipped down to unfasten his pants.

She was getting good at this part, the quick and dirty undressing; the hot, desperate pursuit of pleasure. Gold bucked into her touch as she cupped him, pulling his cock gently free from his boxers.

She smiled at his eagerness, dragging her lips down to his neck. “My my, Mr. Gold… Did you miss me?”

He just growled in response, grabbing her thigh and tugging her leg up, hitching it over his hip. “Are you ready? Shall I go down on you first?”

“I’ve been dreaming of you all morning. Just fuck me before someone catches us.”

He snarled, hastily pulling her underwear aside and pressing the blunt head of him against her vulva. Belle gasped, and lent a hand to lining them up. 

“Yes, just there. Oh, yes!”

Gold hissed as the head of his cock entered her. Belle clutched at his shoulders, and Gold gripped the shelving unit behind her, pushing their bodies as close as he could manage. “Belle… sweet Belle. You feel so… oh fuck… so good!”

He gasped, adjusting to find the best angle. Belle could do little but cling to him, gasping as his hard strokes pushed her up and back against the shelves. Her breasts jumped as he nearly lifted her off her feet.

It wasn’t long before they had found a rhythm that offered both complete penetration and the speed required to drive Belle up the hill towards climax.

Gold pressed his forehead to hers, their sweaty skin sliding together. Belle kissed him, but he was too focused to kiss back; her lips plucked his as her pleasure plateaued, his driving cock not quite where she needed it to find pleasure.

From the way he growled, he was frustrated too.

“C-Couch!” she cried, gathering his lapels in her fists. He nodded and pulled out of her; Belle stumbled as she stood, his strength keeping them both upright. Once grounded, Belle pulled him with her to the corner where an old green couch sat gathering dust. She nudged him to lie down, and he started to protest.

“Your ankle, dear. You need to rest it,” she said, kissing him as he dropped to the sofa. She got into position above him, shifting as she lined his cock up with her entrance. “Besides, I love riding you.”

She bit her lip as she sank onto him, pleased to see the way his hands gripped the stuffing and his eyes rolled back. She smiled.

“You have missed me.”

“Of course,” he growled, his hands grabbing her hips. He squeezed as she found a new rhythm, leaning forward to find her favorite angle. “Of course I missed you. It’s been weeks since we slipped away. I missed your smell, the taste of your kisses… I missed you,” he said, letting his hands run up her sides, thumbs stroking her bouncing breasts.

She hissed as he grazed a nipple, speeding up. “I mi-… missed you too! Life is so boring without yo-o-Oh! Oh yes!” She ground down, rolling her hips.

He took her momentary stillness as an opportunity to pinch her nipple, rolling it between two fingers. His other hand covered her other breast, kneading the flesh gently. Belle moaned, pushing into his touch.

“Rum…Rumford… I need… Oh Christ!”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said, coaxing her to lean over him. He wrapped one arm around her back and braced his feet against the cushions. He thrust upwards, cock pounding into her at close range.

Belle cried with pleasure, almost a song, and pressed her cheek to his. “Oh God! Oh my God, yes, YES! Fuck, YES!”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Come with me inside you,” he growled, pressing his lips to the parts of her jaw and neck that he could reach.

She bit her lip to stifle her cries, her hips bucking as she reached orgasm. He continued to pump into her as her muscles squeezed his cock, and his balls slapped against the round flesh of her behind. When she began to relax, softening against his chest, she whimpered his name and he was lost. Gold’s rhythm became a harsh jerk and he swore, spilling himself. A few more long, slow pumps, and he pulled out, Belle shifting to one side.

She purred against his neck, carding a hand through his hair. They breathed together. Gold’s arm stayed firmly wrapped around her, his other hand trailing over her ass and thigh.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice harsh and hesitant.

That was her dear, sweet Rumford. Willing to fuck her against a wall, but afraid to share his feelings.

“I love you, too,” she said, sitting up just enough to kiss him tenderly. His lips responded this time, returning her kiss with equal sentiment. “We ought to go. We’ll be missed soon.”

He groaned, holding her tighter. “I just got you. I don’t want to go.”

“Would you rather Astrid came looking for me and found us? I can see the headlines. ‘Town librarian caught in passionate embrace with fearsome crime lord-”

“Alleged.”

“With alleged crime lord, Mr. R. Gold. His cum was still dripping from her very warm, well-pounded-”

He stopped her with a kiss, laughter bubbling from their throats as they spent a few long moments, kissing.

Belle tried to climb off him, but he held her, refusing. “Marry me, Belle.”

She stopped, startled, looking at him with wide eyes. A smile crept over her lips, but it was not the smile of someone about to say yes. “Rumford-”

“Marry me. I hate being apart from you, being reduced to fucking in cellars when I should be ravishing you night after night, in my bed.”

“We can’t. You know we can’t.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t care.”

“Rumford, we’ve talked about this.”

“Belle-”

“No! We can’t. Don’t ask me again, Rum. Please. You’ll break my heart.”

“You’re already breaking mine.”

He didn’t stop her this time as she climbed off him, stepping back into her monstrous heels and adjusting her clothing. He did the same, much more quickly, and headed for the door that led to the tunnels.

He wasn’t even planning to say goodbye.

“Rum, wait,” she said, grabbing his arm. He tensed under her touch. “I love you. You know that I love you with all of my heart, but this… this is complicated.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said, looking at her. His stare was unnerving.

Belle hated to cause him pain, and her own heart began aching in sympathy for his. And yet, a surge of anger welled. “That’s a lie. You can’t just willfully ignore years of history in order to guilt me into marrying you.”

“I didn’t realize it was such an unappealing offer! Don’t worry, I won’t ask again.” He tugged his arm from her and headed for the exit. His cane was waiting for him at the door, and he snatched it up as though he could beat the world with it.

She wanted to apologize, but she was too proud and too upset. The door slammed behind him, and she sighed.

She finished buttoning her shirt as she walked back to the elevator.

Astrid was waiting on the ground floor. “Um, Belle, your dad’s here to see you. Weren’t you getting-?”

“Thanks Astrid!” Belle said, more forceful than friendly. Her dad was the last person she wanted to see.

She headed for the circulation desk and, sure enough, Moe was squinting at a poster on the wall.

“Hey, dad.”

“Belle! Hey, love!” He enveloped her in a hug and she wriggled away as quickly as possible, afraid that he’d smell their basement escapade.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to warn you I’ve got a bloke coming over. The boys and I have found a solution to our Gold problem once and for all.”

He tried to whisper, but failed. Belle had walked back behind the desk, and now began shifting papers from pile to pile. “Really? I wonder where I’ve heard that before.”

“I mean it, sweetheart! We’re going to knock that smug bastard onto his-”

“Dad! Come on. He runs this town and, despite your many attempts to dethrone him in the past, he’s got his hooks into everything. Maybe if you spent more time on your own business instead of trying to get petty revenge…”

“Belle! Please, you know what a scoundrel he is! This town was _ours_ ,” he said, clutching his heart. “Our family ran it for nearly a century before that, that _vulture_ -”

“Swooped in and destroyed everything you’ve ever worked for, etc. I know the story, dad,” she said, sighing and looking up. “I’ve heard you tell it a thousand times. But I don’t think that changes the fact that he runs this town now, not us. And he’s done it well, albeit violently. I remember not being able to play outside as a kid because it was too dangerous, and now we’ve got a dozen city parks. Unemployment is down, too, and people seem to be happy.”

“That’s because they don’t remember what he did. They don’t remember the years he spent killing and bribing his way to the top. He humiliated us, Belle! He took our throne!”

“Your throne, dad. I have no interest in being royalty.”

He walked around the desk and took her jaw in his enormous hand. “You’ll always be my little princess, Belle. Even if you do read too much.” He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped her in another hug. “Why can’t you just get married and work at home like a good girl? Gaston would marry you in a heartbeat.”

Belle tried to hide her gagging. “No way, papa, he’s like my brother.”

“Well, can’t blame me for trying. Anyway, we’re having the blokes over for dinner tonight, so make something nice. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, dad.”

She managed to wait until he had left to let out a long, shaking sigh. Astrid appeared at her elbow.

“Sorry to do this again, Astrid, but-”

“Go take a break, Belle. You need it.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been shirking work all morning.”

“I’ll be fine. Want me to put up the “Out of Order” sign on the bathroom?”

“No, I’ll be okay. Thanks Astrid.” She smiled at her friend as she hurried away, tears already poking at the corners of her eyes.

She sank down onto one of the toilets and let herself collapse.

Her father’s ancient misogyny had a way of making her regret her own existence, and since she was also fighting with Rumford, she felt more miserable than usual. Depression was like a battle that could never be won. Belle had dozens of strategies to get through even her worst days, but suddenly she was blanking on anything to help her get back on her feet. The best thing in the past had always been to hug Gold, to hold him tight to her chest, feel his arms lock around her slender frame, and hear him whisper endless vows of love in her ear. That made her feel invincible.

But today, that would not do. She winced to think of the ache in her chest, no doubt mirrored in his. It seemed they were doomed to pain because neither could have what they most desired: the other.

Belle unrolled the toilet paper and ripped some off to wipe her nose. She’d thought about running away from her father so many times over the years… She and Rum could go anywhere in the world. They could get married, have kids.

But Storybrooke was her home and, misguided and backwards as he was, Moe was her _father_. That meant something! She couldn’t just abandon him. But as long as she was still caring for her prejudicial and short-tempered ex-Mafia Boss father, she could never be with Gold. She could never have both.

She could feel Gold’s reverence in every lingering touch, every stolen glance. He was quiet with her; all the chaotic energy of his life dulled from a tempest into a gentle tide. And she felt alive with him, alive in a way she had never felt. Like life was worth something. Like _she_ was worth something, worth more than cooking and cleaning and making babies.

God, she needed him.

She’d call him tonight on her burner phone, an annoying precaution, and beg his forgiveness. Someday they’d be together… Someday. She loved him.

Belle wiped her nose again, stood and went to the sink, splashed some cold water on her face, and dried it with a paper towel. Her makeup was ruined, but that would just have to be a casualty of war. She had two hours left in her shift. And then she was apparently expected to cook a feast for an unspecified amount of people, the provisions for which she undoubtedly would need to go pick up at the market.

She hugged herself and sighed. Anger and despair had filled her with coldness, and she would need that detachment to perform as hostess. It was a necessary part of handling her father. Still, it left her hollow and wanting.

Belle pinched color into her cheeks and turned on her heels, exiting the bathroom with a flourish. She put on a smile, and went back to work.

* * *

 

The laughter from the dining room was riotous. Belle brushed the hair back from her face and stirred the sauce for the pasta, which would be ready any minute. She heard someone come in and tensed up.

“Hey Bells.”

She sighed with relief. “Hey Gaston. Can you pull the bread from the oven?”

“Sure.”

“Dad tried to marry me off to you again today. Would you tell him you’re not interested, please?”          

“He wouldn’t listen even if I did. In his mind we’ve been betrothed since childhood. I’m supposed to take over the family business, and that would work much better if I was married to you.”

Belle groaned. “You can have it without me. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t let your father hear you. He’s mad about the idea of you ruling this town.”

“But why? Why on Earth would I want that? Why the hell does it matter so much?”

Gaston just shrugged and began slicing the bread. She passed him the little basket, and he filled it. Belle drained the pasta and the steam made her brow sweat.

“I don’t want to go back out there,” she said. “Think I could get away with not eating at the table?”

“What’s the matter? Besides the usual noise, that is.”

“It’s that new guy. With the hook. He gives me a really horrible vibe.” Belle shivered, thinking of the way his dark eyes had stared right through her, full of malice and dark intentions.

“Oh, yeah. He’s a little cold.”

“Cold? He’s, he’s… _evil_.”

“You don’t even know him Belle, isn’t that melodramatic?”

“I pray to God I never get to know him. He’s wrong, Gaston. He doesn’t belong here. I’m certain that he’s only going bring bad things.”

“Well your dad seems to like him. I think he’s paying the guy for something, but if it’s part of his grand plan, he hasn’t shared with us yet.”

“If you find out-”

“I’ll tell you. Like always.”

“Thanks Gaston. Thanks for helping me keep him out of trouble.”

The behemoth shrugged. “I’ll carry the bread and salad if you bring the utensils and pasta.”

Belle smiled. “What would I do without you?”

* * *

 

One rowdy meal and several ass-gropings later, Belle was back in the kitchen doing dishes. She was humming under her breath and didn’t hear any footfalls, so she jumped at the sudden, grating voice.

“So you’re the daughter I’ve heard so much about.”

The bowl she was washing slipped back into the hot water, her whole body tense. She turned slowly, and the hooked man was just a few feet away.

“Yes. And you are?”

“Your father’s hired me. I’m going to be here for a while. You’re a fine cook, and twice as fine to look at.” He stepped closer, and Belle reflexively moved away. This made him smile, and she found it even more frightening than his stare. “Your father’s already tried to sell you to me for a few cases of brandy.”

“Excuse me, I need-” Belle tried to step around him and he blocked her.

“But you and I both know that you’re not the good little girl your father thinks you are. No… You’ve got a secret, Belle.”

She glared at him, then, looking into his eyes for the first time during this terrible conversation. “It’s Ms. French, thank you. And if you think I’m going to tell you my secrets, then you’ve got another thing coming.”

He grinned again and she hated it. “Oh no, it’ll be much more fun if I figure it out on my own. Don’t you think?”

“Get out of my way.” Belle pronounced each word like it was an anvil, heavy and firm. She tried to step around him again and he threw out his arm. She crashed through it and didn’t stop moving until she found Gaston and clung to his side like seaweed.

He gave her a questioning look.

“I need help with dishes.”

He nodded.

When they returned to the kitchen, Hook was gone.

* * *

 

It was late that evening when she pulled the burner phone from beneath her mattress. She sat on the bed in her fuzziest sweats, makeup scrubbed, and warmth from her hot shower still buzzing on her skin.

She dialed the number by memory. It rang for so long she thought he wouldn’t pick up, but at the last moment-

“Hello.”

“Hey,” she said, picking at the hem of her fuzzy socks. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I was playing the guilt card.”

“You’re right, though. It’s not fair of me to keep you in this perpetual in-between. I love you, Rum, and I do want to marry you, but…”

“But you’re not ready, and it would kill your father. I know, my love. I know.”

Belle sighed. She didn’t want to cry anymore. “Sometimes I think you’d be better off without me.”

“No no, none of that. Don’t you dare devalue yourself, or I swear to God I’ll march over there and kiss you to death.”

She grinned, biting her lower lip.

“Now that would really give your father a heart attack. Imagine him walking into your room only to see you in bed with his greatest enemy.”

“Imagine him walking in to see your bare arse bouncing in the air.”

“Oh lord.”

Belle laughed. She sat for a minute in silence before speaking again. “Today was really hard. Dad was waiting for me in the library when I got back, and he said he’s found a way to defeat you, like you’re some kind of medieval dragon.”

“He’s said that before.”

“I know, but… He’s hired this man who sets off every nerve in my body. Just one look at him and I find myself wanting to run away, all the way across town. And he’s staying in the house… It’s horrible.”

“…Did you lock your door?”

“Yes, of course. And I’ve got the pepper spray by my bed. It’s not… It’s not that kind of vibe, exactly. It’s evil. I think he’s evil.”

“…That’s not reassuring. I can come get you, you know. You could tell your father you’re sleeping at Ruby’s.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I’m a big girl.”

“Yes, but I’d feel better if I could protect you 24/7. The way a dragon should protect his princess.”

“Oh God, not you too! Why does everyone want me to be royalty?”

“Can’t help it, my darling. You have the bearing of a queen.”

Belle groaned with feigned annoyance. “Whatever. I could live without all the drama you two seem to create in your petty battles.”

“I am not petty! Can’t a man rule a town like his own personal kingdom, regardless of the feelings of others, without seeming petty?”

Belle snorted. “You’re no better than him, you know! He wants to rule, too. He just clings to the shadows of the past, desperately trying to regain control.”

“…You do make it sound petty. You know, I never cared for the term “Mafioso”. Or mob, or mobster.”

“What would you call it then?”

“I possess a strong entrepreneurial spirit.”

Belle scoffed again. “No, I take it back. You are different than my father. He’s all pasta and wine and a cadre of male associates, very classic _Godfather_. I much prefer your style.”

“Pray tell, what is my style?”

“You’re like a lone wolf,” she said, slipping under her blankets and turning off her light. “You dress impeccably, and you rule your petty kingdom with an iron fist. I may disagree with your business practices, but I love you.”

“And I love you, naïve and gentle as you are.”

“I’m not naïve!”

“And I’m not petty,” he said, but she could hear his smile. “Are you off to bed?”

“Yes. Would you talk to me for a little while longer? I promise not to insult you.”

“My darling, how would I know you were listening if you didn’t insult me from time to time?”

* * *

 

Belle cut out of work early the following week, wrapping her sweater against the chill as she hurried down the sidewalk. She had to keep herself from sprinting up the steps to the diner.

“Hey Ruby! Do you have a sec?”

“Sure thing,” the brunette said, throwing Belle a wink. She set down her order pad and put a protective arm around Belle’s shoulders. They’d done this a few times now, the ruse almost habit. Ruby would take ten, then lock up the laundry room as though Belle was back there having a good cry, and people would come and go through the diner without giving it a second thought.

Meanwhile Belle wound her way through the back corridors, emerging onto the second floor of the Bed and Breakfast. Gold always took room seven, and paid a hefty tip to stay anonymous.

Belle had hardly opened the door before he grabbed her and closed it. She laughed as he clutched her close, kissed her passionately, and walked her backwards towards the bed.

“I missed you,” he growled, hands wasting no time in tugging at her skirt.

She couldn’t contain her smile. “I missed you too.”

“Anyone see you?”

“Yes, but no one seemed suspicious.”

“How long do you have?”

“Maybe two hours.”

“Good Lord, I could give you twelve orgasms in that time.”

Belle laughed again, crawling back on the bed as he yanked her skirt off, bringing her heels tumbling with it. “I’d be happy with just one… or two. And I expect at least 45 minutes of cuddling.”

He ripped off his suit jacket, shirt, and tie, and his haste belied his need. Belle stripped off her blouse and sweater as well, and Rumford threw himself atop her. She squealed as he tickled her sides, kissing her collarbones.

“Rum! Rum, stop it! I’ll start screaming!”

“Oh I’ll have you screaming, my little Belle, but it won’t be with tickling.”

She gasped as he ran his hands over her breasts, kneading through her bra. He nipped her neck as his hands slid around to unhook the lace contraption. Her hands ran up and down his back, her knees squeezing his hips. She brought her arms in long enough for him to peel off her bra and toss it aside, and he wasted no time in latching onto one of her nipples. She gasped as his tongue worked on her, using his teeth just enough to keep her on edge.

Her breasts were not especially sensitive, and she would soon need more stimulation in order to be satisfied, but Rumford was so keen on those particular parts that she couldn’t mind his devotion. He switched from side to side, always using his hand to knead the breast not receiving attention from his mouth.

She ran her hands along his back, scratching lightly with her nails. He shuddered.

He pulled back from her, running his hands down her sides. “Scooch, lassie,” he said, giving the outside of her thigh near her rump a sharp tap. “I need a better position from which to eat you out.”

Belle purred, wriggling to lie on the bed the way it was intended. “Ooh, a sultry promise _and_ proper grammar. You really know the way to a librarian’s heart.”

He climbed onto the bed again and crawled between her knees, pulling her underwear off with gusto. “I know the way to other places, too,” he smirked, lowering himself down and pressing a kiss to her mound.

Eyes closed, she rolled her lips together and sucked in a breath through her nose.

“Oh God… Oh God! Yes!”

Gold grinned as he settled into this, perhaps his favorite bedroom activity. He could have sustained himself for months on her cries alone, and the delicious way she squirmed under his touch. He loved to see her come apart.

His tongue teased her labia, eliciting another round of gasping cries. He traced the lines of her vulva before settling at her clit. His tongue worked her like an instrument until the hand that had buried itself in his hair began to pull, the other squeezing the sheets, and her body shook with the force of her orgasm. He lapped up her taste.

When she blinked open her eyes, grinning and panting, he had stripped off his pants and was lying beside her totally nude. She chuckled.

“What are you laughing at?”

“If only the town could see you now. You’re not very fearsome.”

He harrumphed in faux indignation. “How dare you! I think my cock is mightily offended.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping a hand around his member. “Let me make it up to you.” Stroking softly, she used her other hand to pull him atop her. They shifted until his whole body was pressed against her, his slim hips tucked firmly between her thighs.

This was her favorite part. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Belle kissed the most feared man in Storybrooke.

“I love you, Rum. I love being close to you like this.”

Holding himself up on one elbow, he cupped her jaw and kissed her again. “Belle. My Belle…”

She reached down to line them up and gasped as his cock entered her, quickly drawing her arm back to fasten in his hair. He moved his hips with a gentle grace, if such a word could be used to describe their act, her legs hooked securely behind his back.

They breathed together as their bodies moved in harmony.

Soon his pace quickened and Belle’s vision blurred with her own pleasure; she could no longer make out the lines of his face that she so adored. His cock driving in her felt like magic, and the warmth of her previous orgasm began to spread through her body until she was full and tingling and she clutched him to her chest as she came again.

He kissed her as his lingering strokes faltered, his lips warm against her mouth, her chin, her jaw. He moaned, crying into her neck as he spilled himself.

Belle was the first to come back to full, sober consciousness. She purred with contentment, dragging her fingers through his hair. Gold, when he recovered, pulled out and rolled to her side. Belle tugged at the blankets until they were covered. They snuggled together until she was pressed close against his side, head on his chest, and his hand was drawing circles across the small of her back.

It was a long while before either of them spoke.

“I noticed that some of the townspeople have asked to renegotiate their contracts. Do you think that’s part of whatever it is your father’s planning?”

“No,” Belle murmured, “no, I don’t think so. It’s something to do with the stranger he brought in. I hate that man.”

“Has he tried anything?”

“No, he’s left me alone, mostly. But sometimes I feel like he’s watching me, even when he isn’t around. And he doesn’t have a name, did I tell you that? They don’t call him anything. It’s some kind of secret.” Belle had taken to calling him Hook after his horrible appendage, but she didn’t share this tidbit, not wanting to give Rum any more reason to worry.

“That’s shady, Belle. Incredibly.”

“I know. But what can I do?”

“I’ll happily come kill him for you. I’ll even give you a discount.”

She laughed, squeezing him as she cuddled closer. “You’ll do no such thing, Rum. Not on my account. I’ll be fine.”

He kissed her temple. “I wish you’d let me take you away. Just for a weekend.”

She sighed. “It’d be too suspicious. But I love you, Rum. I want to be with you. You know that, don’t you?”

He didn’t respond right away, and Belle sat up to look at him.

“Of course I do.” He traced her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Of course.”

* * *

 

It was several weeks later, as she served dinner to her father’s associates at their weekly meeting, that she realized she was late.

Not to dinner, not an overdue library book… _Late._

She did her best to stay composed. As soon as the guests had left, Belle grabbed her coat and her purse.

“Where are you off to, Belle? It’s nearly nine o’clock.”

“Oh, hey papa. I, uh… I wanted to make French toast in the morning but I’m out of vanilla. I’m just going to pop out to the store. I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going alone. Why don’t you take Gaston-”

“No! No, I’m an adult. I’m fine. Bye papa,” she said, kissing him on the cheek.

She practically ran in her haste. Luckily the grocery store also had a little pharmacy, and she grabbed a bottle of vanilla on her way to the checkout. It was expensive, but she couldn’t risk blowing her cover. She even briefly considered bribing the checkout girl before she realized how suspicious _that_ would be.

Luckily her father was already in bed by the time she got back. Breathless, she rushed to the bathroom.

Ruby had not been exaggerating when she’d described waiting as the longest two minutes of her life; it was truly excruciating. She tapped her foot nervously, biting her lip.

…Holy shit.

Belle’s hand trembled as she covered her mouth. The little pink “plus” sign stared at her. And stared. And stared at her.

Eventually, she wasn’t sure how much later, she had the good sense to hide the evidence. Wrapping the thing in toilet paper, she shoved it down into the bottom of the wastebasket. Before leaving the restroom she washed her hands, splashing a little warm water on her face. The mirror showed how pale she looked, and she ran a finger delicately across her ashen lips.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked to her bedroom like nothing was wrong. She locked the door, changed into her sweats, and curled up beneath her covers. Taking out the disposable cell phone, she held it in her hands.

And she held it until she fell asleep.

Unbeknownst to Belle, the hooked visitor crept from the guest bedroom moments after he heard the lock on her door click into place. He pushed the bathroom door open with his metal attachment, shutting it gently behind him.

* * *

 

The next morning Belle was making eggs as her father waltzed into the kitchen. He was singing an old ditty as he grabbed her hands and tried to pull her into a dance.

“Papa, what’s gotten into you?”

“Today’s the day, my love! Today’s the day we put that old bastard down!”

Belle felt her practiced, fake smile plaster itself to her face. She pulled away and returned to her eggs. “I won’t celebrate you trying to ruin your rival.”

“Oh, I will ruin him! After today, I will never have to look that smug bastard in the face ever again!”

Belle scoffed. “Isn’t that dramatic? I mean, he still lives here in Storybrooke. You’re bound to see him.”

Moe giggled, rubbing his hands together. “Only if we wind up in hell together.”

An icy chill spread through Belle’s body. “What?” It was hardly more than a whisper.

“We’re going to be on top again, my lovely. We’ll have no competition!” Moe reached for her hands again and she yanked them away.

“Papa that’s… that’s _murder_.”

Moe saw her distress and shrugged his shoulders, confused. “It’s what we’ve been planning, Belle. We’ll be on top again!”

“No,” she said, unable to control her shaking. “No, no! You can’t… You can’t be serious! No, papa, I won’t let you!” she scrambled for her coat.

“Belle-”

He reached for her, but Belle turned away. If she sprinted through the back door and hopped the fence, she might make it to the Sheriff’s station before he caught her…

Someone grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back. The cool bite of metal trapped her wrists.

“NO! Let me go! You can’t do this! You’re not a _king_ ,” she said, spitting the word, “you can’t just murder people you don’t like!”

Moe’s countenance turned grave. “I don’t understand, Belle. This is what we wanted.”

She scoffed, bile rising in her throat. “Don’t you dare include me in this. I never wanted ANY of it.”

“I suggest we lock her up,” came Hook’s voice from above her head. “We can’t let her interfere.”

Moe raked a hand down his face. He nodded.

“Papa, no! I’m begging you to reconsider, please!” She shrieked as she was dragged away, literally kicking and screaming. “Papa please! PAPA!”

He hauled her up the stairs. She could smell her breakfast burning.

“NO!” She yelled, scrabbling for any foothold. “I WON’T LET YOU HURT HIM!”

The man just laughed as he threw her into her room. Belle landed on the floor, her bones crying out in protest. She saw a pair of handcuffs glinting on the metal hook before the slammed the door; the sound of the cinching cuffs could be heard through the wood.

By the time Belle got back on her feet, he was walking away and her door was locked in place, apparently handcuffed to the doorknob of the next room over. She screeched as she yanked on it, desperate, caged.

Plan A, rip open the door in an incredible display of strength, was apparently a bust. Time for Plan B. Belle dove for her bed and reached for the cell she kept beneath her mattress, but her searching hand found only sheets and bed frame. She looked under the bed, searched the floor, checked under her pillows, but it was no use. It was gone.

She didn’t waste time wondering where it had gone. Plan C, then.

There were spare sheets in her cupboard, and she ripped the set off her bed, spreading them out to their full lengths. She tied them together, trying to keep the knots small but also knowing they needed to be strong to hold her on her way down to the ground. She wished there was a better way to test them than just tugging.

How to anchor it? She tied one end to her bed’s headboard and the other she threw out the open window. Foot-first would be the more practical way to go. Her feet fought for purchase but there were no horizontal grooves or ledges of any kind. Slowly, hand over hand, she began to lower herself down.

It was the most terrifying thing she’d ever done in her life.

She was just a foot from the bottom, maybe two, when someone grabbed her from behind. She felt the scream rising in her throat only to be muffled by a damp rag pressed against her mouth. It was too strong, and her legs stalled in their flailing. She managed to scratch the back of his hand, but unfortunately she had already begun to lose consciousness. The tip of a hook poked her stomach, and she passed out.

* * *

 

Cold. Ow. Water.

Belle’s eyes fluttered open and it took her a moment to focus. She was lying on her side on something hard and cold, and a breeze was chilling her through her tights. She had not dressed very practically in the morning and hadn’t even thought to put on shoes during her escape attempt.

The smell of salt and waves was enough to make her almost nauseous… or perhaps that was the lingering effect of whatever Hook had used to drug her.

“Don’t worry love, he’ll be here soon.”

Belle gagged. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? Does it remind you of your father or of your lover? I’ve heard Moe use that particular endearment… Does the crocodile?”

“What?” Belle spat, wishing she could rub her head but realizing that her arms and legs were bound.

“Your _boyfriend_ ,” the pirate hissed, squatting in front of his prisoner. “I told you it would be more fun this way.” He stood, walking away to pick up a pistol. “Gold and I are foes of old. He’s surprisingly unoriginal.”

“Gold? Are you kidding? Gold and I aren’t-”

“Oh spare me! I followed him to the B&B and saw you enter the diner shortly after. What a coincidence that you left just after him, as well.”

“That’s your evidence? Pitiful.”

“Well, I’ve got this too,” he said, pulling her disposable cell phone from his pocket. “You only ever called one number. Guess who picked up when I dialed?”

Belle struggled against her bonds. “He’s stronger and smarter than you think he is. He won’t wander into your trap like a fool.”

The pirate laughed. “That’s exactly what he’ll do! Love makes us fools, little librarian. I know it changed me. Until Gold had her killed, that is. Now I’m smarter,” he knelt beside her again, poking her in the temple with the muzzle of the gun. “And he’s the fool. He’ll come to save you. Just out of curiosity, have you told him about your little abomination?” He pressed the gun to her stomach, and Belle flinched. She knew that it wasn’t a baby, not yet, but it still struck her to the core.

“No matter,” he said, standing again. “I’ll let you tell him as he bleeds out. And then, right before he dies, I’ll kill you too. I want your lifeless corpse to be the last thing he sees in this world.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Dearie.”

Belle jolted. He couldn’t be here, couldn’t be so foolish. “Rum! Rum, no!”

The pirate stepped back, allowing Belle a clear view of Gold as he stepped onto the boat. She saw a brief flicker of pain in his eyes as he looked at her, quickly covered with a mask of scorn.

“Jones. I should have known you were Moe French’s mysterious assassin.”

“Who else would do the job for so little?”

“Belle, this is Killian Jones. You should know the name of the man threatening your life, don’t you think?”

“It makes no difference, Gold. I’ll still spill your guts on this very wood.”

Gold snarled, and it was not a pretty sight, but it was full of confidence. “I’d love to see you try.”

Jones cocked the handgun and pointed it, once more, at Belle. “If you don’t play by my rules, I _will_ kill her. A love for a love. That seems fair, doesn’t it?”

Belle felt a wave of repulsion and indignity in her gut. She began to turn, twisting. Jones was so caught up in his game that he didn’t notice. She got one knee under her. If she could just shift…

“No weapons, Gold, but the cane in your hand against my sword.”

“Hardly a fair fight.”

“It’s not supposed to be. I will win, but I want to exhaust you first. Humiliate you.”

Gold stepped away from Belle so that Jones’ back was to her. “What a man you are. I see why Milah left me for you.”

“She loved me!” the pirate hissed, grabbing up a cutlass from a nearby crate. It seemed specially designed to work with his hook and it was almost an extension of the vile man himself.

“And the pathetic two weeks you spent with her was enough to inspire life-long revenge? I had her for five years and I couldn’t give a toss.”

“Shut your mouth!” Jones snarled, lunging. Gold grabbed his cane at each end and caught the strike, deflecting it. The blade nicked his finger and he hissed. Belle saw the blood drip to the deck.

“She was a callous woman. Cold, cruel, incapable of love. She abandoned me and our child, and she would have abandoned you too.”

“Liar!” He lunged again, and this time Gold was slower to counter. The sword got much too close to his face.

Belle had maneuvered onto her stomach. With a little effort, she was kneeling, and with extraordinary grace, she moved silently to her feet. She was forced to crouch, and she knew that there would be only one chance.

Rumford saw her movements but was careful not to give anything away. Brandishing his cane wildly, he moved forward and forced Killian back.

One step, two, and the pirate was close enough. Belle launched herself at him using every bit of strength in her body. Her entire weight collided with him and, before he could grasp what had happened, they were falling to the ground. Gold smacked the gun from his hand and caught it.

Like a panther he was standing on Hook’s sword attachment, the gun aimed at his head.

“Move. I dare you.”

Belle rolled away, breathing hard.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to hand you a knife. I need you to cut yourself free.” Gold popped off the top of his cane, revealing a slim golden blade. Belle was lying on her stomach. He dropped it into her open hands and she began working through the rope.

“I’ll kill you, crocodile. I swear I will.”

“Don’t be stupid, Jones. You’re not leaving this boat alive.”

“Rumford,” Belle said as she tugged her hands free. “You can’t kill him.”

“What? He tried to kill you, Belle. And me! We can’t let him go.”

“I will not be tried for murder, and I won’t let you be, either. We let the criminal justice system take care of this scum.” The rope fell away from her feet and she stood.

“Belle-”

“Look, I know that this is how you deal with things, but I don’t have the stomach for it. I can’t, Rum. I can’t let you do this.”

He sighed as she stepped close, winding her arms around his waist.

“Well if we don’t incapacitate him he’ll just attack us again. How about one to the knee? He’ll survive that long enough for the police to arrive.”

“We could just tie him up.”

“We don’t have enough rope. A foot, then.”

“I’m not listening to this!” Jones snarled, yanking on his cutlass attachment. Rum’s footing slipped as the weapon was pulled away; the gun no longer trained on him. Killian leaped up, prepared to bring down his sword, and was thwarted by Belle once more throwing her body weight into him. They had moved close enough to the side of the boat that he toppled over, splashing into the dark blue waters below.

“Good one,” Rum said, gathering himself. He screwed the handle back into his cane shaft.

“Come on,” Belle said, tugging at his arm. “We need to get you safe.”

He followed, led easily by the little librarian. “Me? It’s you who needs protecting.”

She scoffed. “I believe I’m the one who tossed him off the boat.”

“Yes, but without me you’d still be tied up.”

“Do you really want to have this argument?”

“No,” he said as they reached the dock. “I want to do this.”

Gold stopped her, pulled her close to his chest, and kissed her. One of his hands found her jaw and held her close, while her own arms wrapped around his middle.

She sighed as they parted. “I don’t… I can’t… my father…”

“We’ll deal with him another day,” he said, taking her hand and continuing their walk away from the ship. “In the meantime I think we ought to go back to my house and phone the police to be on the lookout for a wet, angry pirate who just attempted two murders.”

“I’ll phone them while you drive.”

* * *

 

They spent the following day in and out of the police station. Belle had been too upset to eat, so the following morning while she was still asleep, Gold snuck down to the kitchen. He made a batch of homemade cinnamon rolls and crispy bacon, brewed a pot of coffee and added plenty of milk and sugar. His sweet liked things sweet.

As the food cooled to an edible temperature, he headed upstairs and knocked, boyishly, on his own bedroom door.

“Belle? I made breakfast.”

He opened the door just enough to get his head in. Belle was curled up but awake. She looked much as he had left her, though perhaps her eyes were a bit redder. “I’m not really hungry, Rum. Can I sleep a bit longer?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He shut the door and head back down the stairs. Grabbing a tray, he loaded a plate with both the food had he cooked and some fresh strawberries, hoping he could tempt her into a meal. Walking slowly and carefully, he went back to the bedroom.

Belle startled when he came in.

“Sit up, dearest.”

“Rumford…”

“Non-negotiable, I’m afraid. I need to see you eat something.” He set the tray at the foot of the bed and moved around, climbing up and squeezing in behind her. She moaned softly as he wrapped himself around her tiny frame, leaning back against his chest.

“Why are you so good to me?”

“Because I love you,” he said, kissing her temple. “Now grab that tray and bring it up here. I’m starving.”

They ate together, Gold trying to be nonchalant as he counted each strawberry she popped into her mouth. They split a cinnamon roll, and he kissed the frosting from her lips.

When they had finished, Gold set the tray on the bedroom floor and wound his arms around her middle. Belle shifted so that she could see his face. He looked down, raised a hand to brush the hair from her eyes, and saw that she was still upset.

“Belle, you know you can talk to me, right? We’ve been through a lot in the last few days, and if you want to talk to me, I’m here to listen. Or we could get Dr. Hopper over here, in fact that might be a good-”

“How did you know?” she asked, interrupting him.

“Know what?”

“How did you know to bring breakfast up here? How do you always know when my depression is creeping back, sometimes even before I’ve figured it out?”

“I love you. I love you like a part of myself. I don’t know that I can explain it… I see you. I know you.”

She kissed him, holding tight to the nape of his neck. When she pulled away, she seemed less comforted.

“Do you resent me for needing you? Because I resent myself, sometimes. It makes me feel silly and childish, and I think I ought to be able to make my own breakfast like a normal adult.”

“Oh Belle,” he said, drawing her closer. “I couldn’t resent you if I tried. You make me a better person. You make me happy, the way nothing else in this world can. You believe in me when the world turns its back. I need you, at least as much as you need me. Do you resent me for it?”

“Of course not.”

“Exactly.”

She smiled for the first time since the incident the day before. Not surprising, given the circumstances.

“Rum, I… I need to tell you something, and I also need to ask you something. And I need you to know that the two things aren’t related, okay? They’re totally separate.”

“…Okay.”

“Well actually it’s a question and a statement, then another question, and the last question is unrelated to-”

“Belle, I get it. You’re scaring me.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “I know you lost your son a long time ago, but have you ever thought you might want to be a father again someday?”

Rumford took a long moment to consider. “Uh, well… I hadn’t thought much about it. It didn’t seem… Well, it would be presumptuous, wouldn’t it? To assume that you would want… And I’m so much older than you are.” He paused, considered the way she hung on every syllable. “But, but we could try. If you wanted to…?”

“Um, that’s the thing,” she said, torn between looking away and watching his face for a reaction. “We don’t have to try. I’m… I might be pregnant.”

“You… Y-you… I’m…” Rum just stared at her, his eyes flicking between her face and her stomach.

“I missed my period and took a pregnancy test. It came back positive.”

He didn’t know how to respond, so she kept talking.

“I should go to a doctor to make sure, of course. Pregnancy tests are only like, ninety-ish percent effective, though to be fair my birth control was supposed to be ninety-one percent effective…”

“That’s pretty effective,” he said, voice croaking. “You, you really, you really might be pregnant?”

“Yes. Is that…. okay?”

Rum struggled to find the appropriate words from the depths of his heart. “Belle, that’s… that’s more than okay. That’s incredible!”

He kissed her messily, rapidly. She smiled to see him beaming with joy.

“A baby, Belle! And you, you’d want to raise it with me?”

“Of course,” she said, nibbling her lower lip, grinning. “I know it’s not opportune, and with all that’s going on, we’ve got so much to deal with and get through… but when I think of my future, I think of us together. And, well, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about tiny feet running down the hall, shopping for little boots and hats...”

“What a pair of liars we are! I was lying when I said I hadn’t thought about it. Losing Bae was horrible, and it will always be a painful truth in my life, but I loved being a father. I think I was meant for it. Is that terrible?”

“No,” Belle sighed, kissing him again. “No, it just makes me feel better about springing this on you. To know that it’s not unwelcome.”

“My dear, I think it’s the most welcome thing I’ve ever heard.” He kissed her again, his heart swelling with elation. “Oh,” he said, pulling back, “there was something you wanted to ask me.”

“Yes, and it has nothing to do with the maybe-baby,” she said.

“Understood.”

Belle took another steadying breath, her eyes fixed uncertainly on his. “Rumford Gold… Would you marry me?”

Gold couldn’t stop the laugh as it came barreling from his throat.

“Do not laugh! I’m being serious!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just… Unexpected.”

“Well there’s nothing stopping us anymore, and I spent all night thinking about it, if we really needed any more complications, and then I realized that I don’t really care if it makes things more complicated because I want to be with you. And not just _with_ you, but with you so that everyone can see. And if we’re having a baby then it certainly wouldn’t hurt, and after what happened in the library I wasn’t sure if you’d ever ask me again, so I thought-”

He kissed her. Kissed her again and again, until his lips were tingling. When they finally parted, Belle blinked slowly.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would love to be Mr. French.”

Belle scoffed. “I was thinking the more traditional Mr. and Mrs. Gold.”

“Fine,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. “I suppose I’d like that too.” Still smiling that inexhaustible smile, he slipped one hand beneath her baggy nightshirt. He rubbed her abdomen. “There might be some of my progeny in there. A bunch of little cells. Can you believe that?”

Belle smiled. She’d never seen him so giddy. She kissed his neck, pressing herself more firmly into his embrace.

His fingers moved gently downward, probing just under the cut of her shorts. “I would very much like to express my devotion to you sexually. Are you up for it?”

Belle bit her bottom lip again. “Yes. I am definitely up for that.”

His grin turned wolfish as his hand slipped down to cup her sex. She wriggled, opened her legs to allow him better access, and sighed as his middle finger pressed against her clit, circling the bud. He stroked down between her labia, teasing her entrance.

Belle moaned, pressing her face more deeply into his neck. She filled her nose with his scent as he pressed his middle finger into her. He crooked the digit, moving in and out, his other hand rubbing across her stomach. The callouses of his hand scratched her sensitive skin so lightly that it almost tickled.

He added a second finger as she warmed to him.

“That’s my girl,” he crooned. “After we visit the doctor, I think we better research how long we can keep having sex. I intend to go down on you every day until I have to stop.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary.”

“Oh?”

“Some days I’ll let you use your fingers,” she said, grinning.

“Cheeky!” He crooked his fingers and changed his rhythm, and as her head dropped back in pleasure, he kissed her.

She buried a hand in his hair as they kissed, moaning softly against his lips each time he extended his fingers inside of her. She couldn’t stop a cry as he ground his palm down exactly where she needed it, putting such delightful pressure on her clit.

He continued to kiss her as she cried out, at first on her bottom lip, then her chin.

“Oh fuck, Rum. Fuck, I’m getting close.”

“That’s my little darling,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “Tell me how to bring you off.”

“Harder. Maybe faster.”

“Your wish is my command.” He sped up his rhythms, keeping his palm angled to put pressure on her clit; the deeper he thrust his fingers into her, the more satisfied she became, until she cried out, back arching away from him.

As her breathing returned to normal, mouth open in joy, she blinked her eyes open in time to see him sucking his fingers clean.

“That was almost easy,” he said, cupping her jaw.

“My turn.” She rolled languidly in his embrace, pressing her palms against the mattress on either side of his hips. She saw how he sucked in a breath as her body moved against his, fitting together perfectly.

“My intention was not to solicit favors from you, Belle.”

“I know. But I think we have a fair bit of celebrating to do,” she said, drawing her legs up to straddle his lap. “And I’m feeling rather frisky. You know how I love to ride,” she kissed the skin just beneath his ear and felt him shudder, his hands moving up her sides.

Her own hands slipped down to the hem of his pajama pants. She curled her fingers inside the elastic hem and pulled, working the fabric down to expose his cock. She bit her lip. She teased him slowly, running her knuckles over the soft skin of his hips and thighs, working slowly towards her prize. When she finally cupped him, dragging the pads of her fingers over his balls and up his length, Gold swore.

She tutted like a mother hen. “Now now, Rumford. Vulgarity is such a waste of your wicked tongue.”

“I can’t help it,” he said, hissing as she wrapped her hand around him in a loose grip. “This is too good to be true.”

“Oh?” She pumped his cock gently a few times, then grabbed her tank top in both hands and pulled it off over her head. She smiled to see how he looked at her breasts, as though it were the first time all over again. He eagerly cupped them, leaning forward to kiss the newly revealed skin, and Belle used his distraction to wriggle, somewhat awkwardly, out of her shorts.

She squeaked as he tugged a nipple between his teeth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Carried away.”

“I like it when you get carried away,” she said, shifting to press her vulva against his cock. His fingers dug into her waist.

“Oh fuck!” He slid a few more inches down the bed to find a better angle. Belle reached forward and adjusted the pillows behind him until he was comfortable. He thanked her with a kiss which she eagerly returned, and as her lips moved against his, she moved her hips gently back and forth so that the wetness from her cunt coated his dick.

Their kisses became messy; his teeth snagged her lower lip. Belle sat up and wrapped her hand around him once more.

“Ready?”

He nodded, locking eyes with Belle. She felt her heart swell at the tenderness, the reverence in his golden-brown eyes. She kissed him, pressed the head of his cock to her entrance, and gasped as she sank slowly onto him. She rocked, feeling him slide deeper and deeper until he was completely sheathed.

They kissed, Belle’s arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around her waist. His fingers clutched at her skin as she moved, her rhythm slow.

“You’re teasing me,” he whispered, his lips dragging across her skin as he moved to nip her neck.

“I’m indulging… We’ve never had the time b-before,” she said, gasping as her downward motion bumped her clit.

“We have a lifetime… And I’m dying to come inside of you. Please, Belle.”

“Eager?” She laughed, even as she sped up her rhythms, putting more weight on her knees to bounce more easily. He moaned, holding her more tightly.

“Oh God… Oh yes, Belle!”

One of his hands wandered down to squeeze a buttock, the other reaching up to tangle in her curls. He watched her with feverish eyes.

Belle bit her lip, brushing his hair back from his face. “Do you love me?”

“Do you even need to ask?”

“No, but I’d like to hear it a-ah-anyway!”

“I love you. I love you, Belle. Oh fucking hell! You feel so good… Yes, I love you. I need you l-like air!”

Up to this point he’d let her do most of the work, but when his hips bucked into her as she came down on his cock, Belle cried out.

“Oh FUCK!”

Gold nearly smiled. Belle sped up her rhythm for a moment and then paused, grinding down on his cock. The breathless look on his face as she rocked back and forth amplified the pleasure jolting through her body.

She continued in this way, alternating between the hard and fast bounces that struck a special place deep in her core and the slow, tantalizing pressure of being as close to him as possible.

Gold took advantage of each lingering moment to kiss her, to drag his teeth across her neck and follow each scrape with a caress of his lips. As he drew closer and closer to orgasm, he locked his arms around her body.

“Belle… My sweet Belle…”

She held his face between her hands and kissed him, pouring every inch of love and desire into their embrace. Her hips continued to cant as he came, hips jerking, fingers pressing so hard against her skin that she thought he might leave bruises.

With an impressive amount of thought, he dropped a hand to her clit and rubbed it frantically. It was not a gentle touch, but it was enough to have her crying out with a second climax, her hands sliding back to grip his hair as her body shook, back arching.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, Belle managed to get up and wander to the bathroom. When she returned from cleaning up, Gold was waiting for her beneath the covers. They found a comfortable embrace chest to chest, legs entangled, Rumford’s chin resting on her head.

Eventually she broke the silence.

“I suppose there will be a trial.”

“…I suppose.”

“I’ll have to go. He is my father.”

“You don’t have to do anything-”

“I do. You don’t have to-”

“I’m going. Where you go, I go. Besides, I imagine I’ll be a witness of some sort.” He stroked her cheek, pressing a kiss to her temple. “That’s a concern for another day, my love.”

“We seem to have a lot of growing concerns. You don’t… You don’t think this is a mistake, do you?”

“…Which part?”

Belle gave a humorless laugh. “Any of it. We’re complicating our own lives, aren’t we?”

Gold smiled against her hair, and pulled her close. “Complicated isn’t always bad, Belle. And we’ll take this one step at a time, starting with a visit to the doctor tomorrow.”

Belle felt herself smiling, wriggling closer to his chest.

“A baby, Belle!” He whispered, his voice full of pure joy.

“Our baby, Rumford,” she returned, tipping her head back to kiss his chin.

He laughed, pulling his head back to kiss her properly.

Snuggled like this, safe and warm, they drifted off for a mid-morning nap.


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following takes place roughly one year before Chapter One...

“He’s here again,” Astrid whispered, ducking into the back room as though being chased.

Belle sighed, and forced a smile. “No problem Astrid, I’ll deal with him.”

She walked back to the circulation desk, carrying herself as coolly as possible with a totally straight spine. The most feared man in Storybrooke was waiting for her, cane tapping, snarl at the ready.

“Hello Miss French. I assume the scared little one was in tears when she found you?”

“Not at all,” she said, grabbing books from the re-shelving rack one by one and piling them in her arms.

“I must not be trying hard enough.”

“Was there something you needed, Mr. Gold?”

“Your rent is due, I’ve counted several structural and health code violations since coming in, and those heels don’t match your skirt.”

She felt the pangs of anger rising and quashed them. “My heels match my blouse, Mr. Gold, and I’m going to the non-fiction section. Follow me,” she chirped, turning on her perfectly-matched heels and waking away at a pace she knew was too quick for the limping business mogul.

She heard him struggling and felt briefly guilty.

He continued to talk, following her from shelf to shelf as she returned the books to their little homes. “You do realize that I could have this place shut down at the drop of a hat, Miss French, and ignoring me is not going to change that. Nor will your father’s reputation keep these shabby columns upright if they’re full of termites, as I expect they are.”

“Mr. Gold, if I ran this library on my father’s reputation, it would already be in shambles.”

She saw him smirk at her joke.

“The rent is ready for you, of course, in the drawer up front. The violations you are more than welcome to report to the local authorities, as I’m sure they’re imaginary and will do us no harm, and I’ve already refuted your pathetic jab at my fashion sense. Was there anything else you needed?”

“Oh yes, I have a quite a bit more threatening and insulting to do.”

“Really? And which of my flaws will be your fodder?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Could be that you’re wasting your potential here in this squalid little town, could be your withering beauty. Which would most push your buttons?”

“My, my, Mr. Gold, either of those could be taken as compliments in the wrong context.”

“I’m sorry, you must have misheard. You’ve just shelved that book wrong, by the way.”

Belle huffed, grabbed the book in question, and moved it down the row to the right spot. “You could help, you know, instead of critiquing me.”

“Me? I’m a cripple. Are you so bad at your job that you’d ask for my assistance?”

“Mr. Gold, even my expansive patience is a little worn today, so if you don’t mind-”

“Oh but I do! I do mind, Miss French, I very much mind that the only source of literacy in this tiny backwards town is run by someone so focused on her frilly little outfits that she can’t even remember how the Dewey Decimal system works.”

He said this with an obnoxious, boyish glee, and Belle felt her careful restraint snapping in anger. She turned suddenly, backing him against a shelf.

“Look here, you curmudgeonly bastard, there is no way in hell I spend more time on my appearance than you do, with your tailored suits and your pocket squares, so I don’t want to hear one word more from those lips about my outfits. Second, I could do my damn job if I didn’t have some malicious little puppy on my heels bitching about everything I do. And finally,” she tapped the book in her hand against his chest. He was watching her so intently that she felt her stomach flip. “…I forgot what the last thing was. But it definitely had a cuss word in it. Choose your favorite.”

“For your information, my favorite is _cunt_.”

There was a creeping blush, a hotness under her skin as she realized that they’d leaned towards one another. His eyes were just shy of her eyes, his lips barely an inch away. For a moment she wanted to kiss him, wanted desperately to rock forward and plant one on that stupid, smug, handsome asshole.

And then she was stepping away. He blinked a few times and whatever it was that had been in his eyes, the glimmer of something that Belle had imagined, surely, was gone. Belle gripped the book in one hand, her skirt in the other, and looked at the floor out of habit. If she had looked up at Gold, she would have seen the way his lips trembled with a few ragged breaths.

“Um, I’ll… I’ll just grab your check, Mr. Gold.”

“Mhmm. Be there in just a moment. I don’t feel like sprinting.”

She felt her lips quirk a little, turned, and headed back to the front of the library with the ghost of him walking behind her.

He took the check and left without a word, but Belle felt Gold on her skin for the rest of the day. She wondered how it might feel to run her hands through his hair, or the graze of his stubble on her cheek as he kissed her passionately, perhaps in the pouring rain…

The buzzing of her cellphone caught her off guard. It was her father.

Ah, nothing like a cold dose of reality on top of an already hard day. She took a deep breath, called up the fake smile that was becoming too familiar on her face, and answered.

“Hey, Papa…”


	3. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon left me a lovely message and a TMI Tuesday request, but as I'm rubbish at TMI Tuesdays, I wrote a ficlet instead. The prompt: "how did Moe take finding out the truth plus finding out Gold would soon be his son in law /and/ he was going to be a grandpa? On the bright side his family is kind of "ruling" SB again!"

It had been 27 days since Belle had smiled without meaning it.

It was a gift she had to give herself, no matter how hard it’d been at first. The reflex was so ingrained, such perfected armor, that giving it up was (she suspected) only slightly less difficult than quitting an addiction. Gold’s arm tightened around her and she let her head fall to his shoulder.

Her hand stroked over her stomach instinctively. She was quite round now, motherhood seeming almost foreign on her slight frame, though Rumford had been doing his very best to fatten her up since they’d gotten married.

The judge’s voice yanked her out of her reverie. It was her turn on the stand.

Yes, Mr. Jones had been living with them for several weeks.

No, she didn’t know who he was.

Yes, she believed she was drugged. She woke up on the ship. There was a struggle.

Yes, her father had been making threats against Mr. Gold.

For years.

No, she never thought they were serious.

Of course she would have called the police when she realized her father was moving beyond business tactics in his fight with Mr. Gold, had she not been held captive.

Thank you, about seven months.

Yes, Mr. Gold is the father.

There was an uproar in the crowd as the defense attorney asked her about the paternity. Was she really sure the baby was Gold’s? Nobody had ever seen them together until after the incident and there were rumors that it was a deal, or a marriage of convenience.

The judge banged her gavel. Belle took advantage of the momentary chaos to look at her husband. He had not made a sound; he was leaning forward with his hands on his cane, his eyes wide and focused entirely on her. She’d never seen him look so vulnerable in public. She gave him a watery smile –it wasn’t fake, it was just halfhearted- and saw him give her one in return. Then her attention was dragged back to the proceedings.

When the DA repeated the question, Belle turned to the judge. “Do I really have to answer?”

“It speaks to her character as a witness, your honor.”

The judge shot a dirty look at the DA.

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Gold.”

She and Rumford Gold were in a relationship for months. Yes, it was monogamous. Yes, it was a secret. _Yes_ , he’s the father.

It was a secret because of his rivalry with Moe French.

Yes, Moe was her father.

No, it was her choice to keep the relationship private.

YES, she was SURE! It was her choice!

A pleading look at the judge earned her a response.

“If you are going to grill Mrs. Gold on her personal history, then please stop repeating your questions and hurry up.”

And finally, after so much waiting and tension and fear, the question she had been dreading dropped from the defense attorney’s lips. The defense attorney who was so good at her job, the defense attorney being paid for by Belle Gold’s new husband, the defense attorney who had sat down for a glass of wine in her kitchen not three weeks ago. Finally, the death-blow.

“You’re testifying against your father. If he loses this case, he will likely spend the rest of his life in jail. Do you feel any remorse?”

… No.

Again the clamor of the crowd, the surge of bodies in the over-filled court pews.

Belle wanted to look anywhere else, but her eyes were drawn to her father. His gaze was hardened because he had been warned – this was just an attempt to discredit Belle in the eyes of the jury – but she could still see the pain. She saw it as though looking in a mirror.  

It had been 27 days since she had spoken to her father.

He’d been arrested shortly after the incident on the boat. He called. She didn’t tell him the truth, though; she couldn’t manage to say the words. _I’m in love with Mr. Gold. I called the sheriff. I don’t want to be your daughter anymore._

After a while, she let the calls go to voicemail.

After a while, he stopped calling.

Presumably he found the truth through the grapevine. Storybrooke had never been able to keep a secret.

She had found it much harder to sleep lately, with the belly and all, and she spent that dark time imagining how his face looked when someone told him about their recent developments. She saw her beloved Papa with his smile contorted into a look of grief, of horror, of repulsion and shame. His daughter, sleeping with the enemy. His daughter, pregnant with the devil’s seed.

Her waking nightmares became too much, and so she went to the grimy county jail, and she sat in the squeaking metal chair, and he was brought in to see her. His face was worse than her nightmares. He just glowered at his shoes, refusing to acknowledge anything she had to say. Finally he spoke the words that would be inked on her heart forever, black and dripping.

_You’re not my daughter._

This was his response to the chasm of pain and misunderstanding that had been growing between them for years! No apologies, no “Sorry my assassin kidnapped you and held you at gunpoint”, no “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet my granddaughter”. None of it.

So Belle stood, locked her hands in front of her stomach, and for once in her goddamn life, she didn’t put on a smile or try to placate her petulant father. She just stood. “No, I’m not.”

Rumford convinced her to let him hire an attorney for Moe, an old friend of his. They had the woman over and discussed the case. They ran the money through a shell company or two to keep things above board. He was so kind, her dear husband, and so patient and so caring. When the judge released her she walked straight into his waiting arms.

They walked down the aisle toward the doors. She couldn’t help casting a look back over her shoulder, but Moe didn’t meet her eye. With one hand on her stomach, she considered the irony. With money and influence and loving parents, Belle and Rumford’s daughter might very well run this little town someday. She’d fulfill her grandfather’s dream, but she’d never meet the man.

And she would never, _ever_ have to fake a smile.


	4. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompted: I don't want to be greedy, but after seeing the ficlet you wrote about Fake Smiles I got thinking, what was Gold and Belle's first kiss like in that verse?

It was rent day.

Belle was already sweating.

For the last few months -since he’d growled the word _cunt_ in her ear like a promise- her encounters with Gold had been getting more and more intense. His barbed tongue loved to lob insults her way, and she secretly loved to ward them off, volley after volley. There weren’t any other people in her life who appreciated her sharp wit, and exercising it with Mr. Gold had proved…. pleasurable.

However, along with the intellectual joy came a certain _other_ stimulation of which she was less fond. He had a way of making her skin tingle and her breath short. She’d accepted that she was attracted to him long ago, but it was her recent desire to _act_ on that attraction that felt dangerous. Unless… Unless just maybe…

The sound of the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her head twisted so quickly that it fell off her raised hand and she had to scramble to keep her cranium from hitting the desk, leaving her looking the fool with arms akimbo.

Mr. Gold just smiled.

“I didn’t know I still had that effect on women.”

Belle blushed, a searing scarlet. She stood abruptly.

“Your rent is in the back. I’ll go get it.”

“I’ll come with you,” he said, meeting her as she rounded the circulation desk.

“Okay,” she said, aware of how her posture stiffened awkwardly. Did she want him to go or stay? Was she happy to have him following, or was it unpleasant? Her warring thoughts only made her movements feel more unnatural.

Gold shot her a quizzical look. They’d gotten halfway to the back without a word. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

“So… decided to stop picking on poor defenseless librarians?”

“Defenseless? Hah! You’re hardly that, Miss French.”

“I’ve asked you to call me Belle.”

“And have I ever acquiesced?”

“No.”

“Then what makes you think today would be different?”

“Hope. Stupidity. Stubbornness. Take your pick.”

“Must be stubbornness.”

She smiled. “Must be. So, Mr. Gold,” she said, changing the subject, “read any good books lately?”

“I quite enjoyed the Asimov you recommended.”

“And the Bradbury?”

“… He does prattle on, doesn’t he?”

She laughed. “That’s half the appeal! He doesn’t rush through his stories like a madman.”

“I enjoyed the short stories, but not _Dandelion Wine_.”

“To each their own, I suppose.”

“And what about you? What romance novel has caught your attention this week?”

“Please. I’m reading _The Martian._ It’s supposed to be very good, and so far it hasn’t disappointed me.”

“Ah, switching from trashy erotica to trashy science fiction? How interesting.”

She scoffed, their conversation putting her at ease. “You’re always judging things you don’t understand.”

“One doesn’t need a Masters in library sciences to separate the literature from the garbage, Dearie.”

“I wasn’t referring to the books, Mr. Gold,” she said, opening the door to the back room and sliding through, shutting it in his face. Had that sounded as flirtatious to him as it did to her? When she emerged and got a look at his dour expression, she smiled again. “I’ve stumped you.”

“You have.”

“How delightful.” She started for the front again, but his cane on her hip stopped her.

“I don’t like being kept in the dark,” he growled, and had it not been for the hint of playfulness in his brogue, she might have been worried. But as it was, she felt his voice like a caress, sending a jolt down her spine. Without turning, she sighed.

“You’re giving me the power to frustrate you, Mr. Gold. Not a strong tactical move.”

He stepped closer to her, the pressure of his cane firm at her hip. “I haven’t given you anything you didn’t already possess.”

She started slightly at his words, looking back over her shoulder. He was too close for her to see his face but she could feel his breath stirring her hair. “That’s twice now.”

“Twice what?”

“Twice that you’ve complimented me.”

“I don’t believe-”

“Don’t toy with me. I know you better.”

“You don’t know me at all.”

“But I might like to,” she said, turning abruptly. He looked at her in shock. Belle felt something peculiar stirring in her veins.

Suddenly he looked up, glancing around. The hand with the cane reached around her back, and he drew her deeper into one of the library’s dark recesses. “A girl like you shouldn’t be seen with a monster.”

“No?”

“You may have forgotten your lineage, Miss French, but I haven’t.”

Her blood chilled somewhat. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Old men are always right.”

Belle huffed. His arm was still wrapped around her. She felt the pieces clicking into place. His compliments, his eagerness to trek across the library with her for a check, his dark eyes, and the comment that she had power over him... Power was a funny thing.

With a few quick steps and her hands on his chest, Belle had him pinned against the wall. He looked at her, startled. Before he could say anything, before she could think better of it, Belle tightened her grip on his lapels and pulled him down for a kiss.

For a moment he was stiff against her. Then, like magic, he relaxed. More than that, his cane clattered to the ground as his arms locked around her, his lips warm and passionate. Belle felt herself melting in his embrace, one hand sliding up to tangle in his hair. Just as she began to feel comfortable, he growled, nipped her lip, and flipped their positions so that Belle was the one pinned against the wall. She gasped as he moved down to her neck, sucking her skin into his mouth, teeth grazing and tongue soothing. Belle’s hips bucked against him.

And suddenly he was gone, Belle’s body lurching into the chasm between them. She blinked in time to see him breathing heavily, body shaking.

“I… I need to go.”

By the time Belle had collected herself, he was gone. His cane was still on the ground. She picked it up, dragging her fingers across the golden handle. An excuse to see him again.

A voice in her head wondered if this wasn’t a mistake; Gold was a volatile man by all accounts. But there had been something in the kiss that left her feeling warm, and safe, and hungry for more. Perhaps when her shift was over she’d wander over to his shop and return the cane. By then he’d have had time to cool down, and she would as well, and perhaps they could discuss… whatever this was.

Or perhaps they wouldn’t use words at all.

* * *

 

Whatever spirit had possessed him to seek out Belle French, whatever creature of foolishness had driven him towards that indomitable, radiant woman, had failed him upon his retreat.

The cane was a casualty of war, so he limped back to his shop. Only once he was safe in the backroom, doors locked, did he realize he’d forgotten the rent as well.

Stupid, masochistic, _moron!_

Didn’t he know by now that Belle French was out of his league? Hadn’t he wasted enough hours of his life pining after her? He was an inconsiderate, aggressive, awkward old man, and he was _old_ , far too old for the pretty young librarian. Why couldn’t he give up his pathetic need to see her and just quit embarrassing himself?!

Because- he had always believed in self-deprecation. What better way to remind himself of his low self-worth than trial by fire? It was cruel, but it was effective.

He’d never felt more miserable.

Gold laid down on the cot and covered his face with his hands. And then, although it seemed impossible, he was brought lower by a stray thought flicking across his mind.

How long had he been in love with Belle French?

Until this morning he’d just liked her, appreciated her wit and her livelihood, fawned over her incomparable beauty, tried to impress her at every opportunity, and craved her presence like an addicted man craves a cigarette. What was there in that to suggest _love_?

…Oh.

Her body had been so warm and welcome beneath his ministrations. She’d leaned into his touches, her lips playing his like a musical instrument. The thought that she’d want to kiss him at all was mind-boggling, but she’d seemed to enjoy it nearly as much as he did! He’d lost his control, the rigid mask he tried to keep in place at all times, and he’d pressed against her like an animal; his teeth had scored her skin and she had _moaned_ and _bucked_ and _wanted it_.

She wanted him.

No, he thought, pushing away all hope. No, she had been caught up in the moment, in whatever temporary insanity had inspired her to kiss him, and that was all. She didn’t want him. She couldn’t.

Briefly, he fell asleep. Not deep enough to dream, but deep enough that the knock on the door was startling, and he felt like a man out of time. Disoriented, he grabbed for his cane and was met with air. Oh. Right.

When the knock repeated he sat up with a snarl.

“I’m coming! Kindly untwist your knickers!”

He limped to the front door and opened it with a snarl. Immediately his face went slack. Was he still dreaming?

“Um, could I come in?”

“…What?”

Belle pointed into the shop and raised her eyebrows.

“Oh, right! Yes, come in.” He held open the door, stepping aside.

Belle walked a few paces then stopped, arms crossed awkwardly in front of her. His cane was clutched in her right fist. He tried not to view it as a sensual act, the way her thumb stroked over the dark wood, but he found his mouth drying out.

“Thank you for bringing it back,” he said, extending a hand.

“Huh? Oh!” She extended the cane and he took it gratefully. “Sorry, I forgot.”

There was an exceedingly awkward pause.

“So, was there anything else…?”

Belle furrowed her brow. “Of course there is.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. We need to talk about… about what happened.”

Gold tried very hard to pull his mask into place, but he could feel it fighting him. “That? Bah. Best not.” He turned and started his retreat behind the counter. Belle followed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Let’s just forget the whole thing. You might want to go see a doctor, though. I hear hormone imbalances can be unruly.”

“… _Hormone imbalance?_ ”

There was an anger in her voice that he had seldom heard. He turned, just slightly, to see her face. She began closing the distance between them and backed him into a wall for the second time that day.

“…Or w-whatever it was that… that…. that caused you to slip, so.”

“Slip? You think it was a slip?”

“Of course,” he growled. “I wouldn’t presume that it was anything else.”

“Tell me one thing, Mr. Gold. Did you or did you not kiss me back?”

He felt a crimson blush creeping over his neck. “I… That’s… That’s beside the point!”

“How?” She stepped closer and he flinched.

“Well… Well it’s not as if…”

“As if…?”

“It’s not as if we’re going to be doing it again, so why the bloody hell does it matter?”

For a moment Belle studied him, and he found it unnerving. Then she smiled. She closed the last few inches between their bodies, her hands stroking up over his chest until one of them reached his jaw. He felt his traitorous body shudder. She cupped his face and bit her lip.

“Tell me, Mr. Gold. If I wanted to do it again…”

“I-if…?”

“Would you be interested?”

He swallowed. His mouth was definitely dry. He considered the options. Was this a joke? A cruel prank? Or was she perhaps wheedling for something, looking to extract something from him?

In all the months he’d spent taunting Belle French, she’d never shown any signs of cruelty or deception.

So…. Fuck it.

“Yes,” he gasped, “yes I would be very interested.”

Her smile grew, and she slid her hand behind his neck. Leaning up, she gently drew him in for another kiss. While the first had been sudden and passionate, this was another beast entirely. It was deliberate, and sweet, and exciting. Belle kept coming back for more, pursuing his lips, absolutely taking charge. His hands tightened on her back, keeping her close as he followed her lead.

Eventually she drew away, gasping for breath. Gold sucked in air greedily, nearly dizzy with the taste of her.

“Hello, Mr. Gold.”

“Hello, Belle.”

This time it was him who initiated, his lips attacking hers with a fervor he hadn’t felt in decades. His hands were no longer satisfied to sit at her back; they slipped beneath her coat to roam over her sides, arms encircling her tiny waist. Before he could stop himself, he’d picked her up and deposited her on the counter. She squealed and her grip on him tightened, her legs wrapping around his hips to draw him closer.

Soon tongues were involved, and Belle’s hands worked his tie undone to slide beneath the collar of his shirt. With a growl he broke away from her mouth, dragging his lips down her neck. He nipped at her collarbone, choosing that spot to suckle at the skin. Again Belle moaned, her hips rocking.

Once he’d made a nice mark he pulled away, running a shaky hand through his hair, his tongue darting out to wipe his lips. Belle sat up, winding her arms around his shoulders.

“I think we’re in trouble, Mr. Gold.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm. You may not have noticed, but I don’t date much.”

“Oh?” He had noticed.

“I’m sort of choosy. And once I find someone I like… I don’t let go.”

“We have that in common, then.”

Belle grinned. “What’s your first name?”

“Buy a man dinner first.”

“Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Hold on,” he said, “I was joking.”

“I’m not. We’re having dinner.”

“I’d love that, sweetheart, but where are we going to go? It’s not as if we can just grab a booth at Granny’s. We’d be seen.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re right. Not that I don’t want to be seen with you, but-”

“You live with your father, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then I think secrecy may be prudent… for now.”

“I’ll pick up Granny’s and bring it here. I can slip in the back.”

“Alright. But I’m paying.”

She cocked her head playfully. “I thought I was buying you dinner.”

“Rumford. My name is Rumford.”

“Rumford,” she repeated, and it sounded like heaven rolling off her tongue. “Rum.”

He looked at her, at her lips, and thought about stealing another kiss.

“I’d better go.” She frowned, lifting one hand to touch his cheek. “I’m already late.”

“Does he guard your movements that carefully?”

Her frown grew. “I try not to lie to him. That’s all. So when he asks where I’ve been…”

“Go,” he said, stepping back and giving her a hand. She hopped off the counter and smoothed her skirt. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Here, you better go out the back.”

“Practice, I suppose.”

“Yes.” His heart thumped. He reached for the door, but she stopped him with her hand on his.

“One more kiss?”

“Okay,” with a smile, he bent his head. She closed her eyes, but he didn’t. He wanted to breathe her in in case she never came back.

When she pulled away, she was smiling. “I could get used to that.”

“I hope you do.”

“Until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

She slipped out the back, looking around for imagined spies. He closed the door. No, he probably wouldn’t see her again. And that was okay. He’d kissed the most beautiful woman in Storybrooke… What else could he ever desire?


End file.
